


opera house

by tuesdead



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Guilty Conscience, Hanahaki Disease, I just really love him, M/M, Pining, Takes place several years after the anime, This fic WILL have a happy ending, Yuri Plisetsky is 23, Yuri Plisetsky likes having his hair washed, Yuri Plisetsky-centric, Yuri has Hanahaki, btw the focus of this fic is not on victuuri, he's getting there, maybe a little ooc for yuri, semi-graphic depictions of Hanahaki Disease, we all know he's sappy on the inside though, yuri is not very good at expressing his emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdead/pseuds/tuesdead
Summary: The first time they witness his disease, Yuri’s in the middle of his last rehearsal before he boards a plane to go to the Grand Prix Final. Thankfully, the rest of his teammates aren’t present, but Yuri’s coaches are, and so are Victor and Yuuri. He lands a quad lutz like the talented professional he is, and then immediately hunches over as flower petals rush out of his lungs to fill his mouth and overflow onto the ice below.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by the song from Cigarettes After Sex.
> 
> This work is still in progress, I haven't decided if there will be two chapters or three.
> 
> please go easy on me! this is my first work in the fandom!!!

The first time they witness his disease, Yuri’s in the middle of his last rehearsal before he boards a plane to go to the Grand Prix Final. Thankfully, the rest of his teammates aren’t present, but Yuri’s coaches are, and so are Victor and Yuuri. He lands a quad lutz like the talented professional he is, and then immediately hunches over as flower petals rush out of his lungs to fill his mouth and overflow onto the ice below.

Yuri isn’t sure how long he chokes on them, but when his body settles and he finally catches his breath, it’s  _ Yuuri _ who’s crouching on the ice beside him, practically holding him up. “Yura, can you hear me?”

Yuri, for once, can think of nothing to say. He covers his mouth, tears pricking at his eyes, but he nods all the same.

“Let’s get you up off the ice, okay? Would you like some water?”

Yuri wants to hate him, wants to kick and scream and hiss like he would have when he was a teenager, but he’s almost twenty-three years old and he’s actually  _ friends _ with Yuuri now. (Truthfully, even when Yuuri was still skating, he thinks they might’ve been friends.) They spend time together with or without Victor, grocery shopping or replenishing their wardrobes, or indulging in foods that don’t adhere to Yuri’s guideline diet. And he cherishes those days as much as he does the days that Victor spends time with him away from Yuuri.

He doesn’t say anything, but he nods at the offer and lets Yuuri help him to a bench, accepting the gentle touches to his back, his arms, his forehead.

“Yurio,” Victor hums, handing Yuri his water bottle. “How long have you been sick?”

The very first time he’d coughed up flower petals, Yuri had feigned the flu and locked himself in his apartment for a week. He’d convinced everybody that he didn’t want to be coddled and to let him take care of himself because he didn’t want anybody else to get sick, but in truth, he’d completely lost it. His only-- _ only _ \--sanity had come in the form of Yuuri and Victor calling him at least once a day. He hates to admit it, but their calls really had helped. And as much as he’d wanted to speak to Otabek about the whole thing, he hadn’t wanted to worry him.

“A few months,” he finally croaks out, after downing half the water and attempting to gather his composure. He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to look them in the eyes after they found out. He’d hoped he would be able to keep his illness a secret until he was finished with the season, but his heart and body apparently have other ideas.

“Do you think you’ll be okay to compete, Yura?”

Yuuri crouches in front of him in an attempt to meet his gaze, and it’s so hard to deny him. Yuri knows he’ll do it eventually, so he doesn’t fight the urge for long, but he almost cries at the ache he sees there. Why would Yuuri be hurting like that? Surely Yuri’s condition isn’t that awful, yet. Surely Yuuri doesn’t realize how hopeless the outcome actually is?

“I should be okay if I don’t focus too much on my emotions,” he finally explains, dropping his gaze again. “I… I got carried away. If I don’t think about--well, you know--then the disease doesn’t really act up. The doctor said it’s actually progressing fairly slowly, but I was hoping I’d at least make it through the season before anybody found out.”

Nobody says anything for a moment. Yuuri looks like he’s thinking way too much, and Yuri doesn’t really want to look at Victor for fear of seeing his pity or something equally embarrassing, so he keeps his gaze low and wonders why neither of his actual coaches have said a word about it.

So when an arm wraps around his shoulders and Victor’s cologne fills his nose, Yuri’s mind goes blank for half a second, and then--more flowers. The first batch, on the ice, was filled with daffodils, which are very common for people who have the disease because they stand for unrequited love. This one, however, is less known. Yuri only recognizes it because the first time he choked on the flowers growing in his lungs, he’d done a lot of research on flower meanings.

It’s not very often people cough up white ivy.

There aren’t nearly as many as there had been on the ice, and Victor’s arm never leaves his shoulders, Yuuri doesn’t even step back. And somehow, that just makes his heart ache even more.

Because Yuri knows his love is incredibly unlikely to be returned, and their affection and care is like a balm that hurts and heals at the same time, even though they can’t make his illness go away.

“Yura.” Yuuri reaches out to tuck Yuri’s bangs behind his ear. “You didn’t really have the flu, that week, did you?”

He can only shake his head. If his throat was hurting before, it’s nothing compared to  _ now _ . He’s afraid to even attempt to speak before he gets some rest.

“Yuratchka.”

Yuri stands, slipping out from under Victor’s arm to face Yakov, immediately at attention. But he finds he feels a little disturbed at the look on the old man’s face; he doesn’t ever remember seeing him look so  _ sad _ .

“Take the remainder of the day off. You need rest if you’re going to be on that plane tomorrow afternoon.” Yakov turns on his heel, walking toward Lilia and the exit. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

The implication goes right over Yuri’s head--that is, until he turns and the idiot couple he actually considers his friends are gazing at him hopefully.

_ Wait, am I supposed to spend the night at their house? _

After a long moment where the three of them just stare at each other, Yuuri takes the initiative and steps forward. “Yura, we were going to ask before Mr. Feltsman said anything, but would you mind staying with us? I know I’ll feel better if you aren’t by yourself tonight, but if you’d really rather be alone, we understand.”

That’s all well and good, and Yuri appreciates how considerate Yuuri is, but Yuri doesn’t  _ want _ to be alone. After his precious cat had passed away, not even a year behind his grandfather, Yuri hadn’t wanted to replace her. And when he’d turned eighteen, he moved out of Lilia’s house. Yuri feels like he’s been alone for way too long.

So he nods, and while Victor only hums in assent, Yuuri gives him a small, relieved smile.

-

Yuri regrets his life choices. Things probably wouldn’t affect him so much if Victor and Yuuri weren’t so  _ nice _ , or  _ attentive _ . But they are. The three of them stop by Yuri’s apartment and while Yuri packs an overnight bag, Victor collects his luggage for the trip the next day, even though he would’ve been fine with stopping home to get it before going to the airport.

“Humor us,” Yuuri pleads, sitting on the end of his bed and folding the clothes that Yuri’s been haphazardly tossing at his backpack. “You’ve been dealing with this on your own for a while now, and we just… Yura, will you let us take care of you for tonight, at least?”

Yuri sinks onto the mattress beside him, hands tucked between his knees so he doesn’t do something stupid like try to hug him. He probably looks like a hot mess--he hadn’t showered after practice, because the two of them had been concerned and eager to get out of the rink (he doesn’t blame them, he was eager to leave, too), not to mention the fact that while his illness is slow-progressing, it’s still a disease that attacks the body, and Yuri’s been losing weight because it’s hard to eat for quite awhile after each episode. “I’m just—not used to this kind of attention.”

The other man nods, and Yuri forces himself not to sigh and hug him anyway.

“I’m glad I don’t have to be alone tonight,” he offers instead.

It’s that moment that Victor pokes his head in the doorway, but Yuri kind of wonders if he wasn’t listening before that. “Are my two favorite Yuris ready to go?”

“Favorite Yuris?” Yuuri asks, and Yuri looks at the floorboards because he knows it can’t be great to hear your husband call another person one of his favorites, and he knows Victor doesn’t mean anything by it, but then Yuuri continues with, “Don’t you mean your favorite people altogether, Vitya?”

Yuri nearly falls off the bed, but Victor’s laughter is light and happy and he thinks if he looks now, Yuuri will be watching at his husband with the fondest expression.

Yuri peeks anyway, feeling a little flushed, only to end up meeting Yuuri’s expressive eyes instead of gazing at his profile.

“Let’s go home,” Victor says, and somehow, Yuri doesn’t feel like an outsider.

-

“I know you’re big on personal space and privacy,” Yuuri begins, and Yuri feels his own heartbeat ratchet up a notch. “But would you mind leaving the bathroom door unlocked?”

He blinks. Enough times that Yuuri’s cheeks turn pink and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I want to be able to reach you if you have another episode is all,” he finally explains.

It makes perfect sense, but Yuri still feels off balance and he doesn’t want to think about  _ why _ . Besides, even if he happens to have another episode (he’s never had three in one day before, so the chances are low), he doubts it’ll be enough to kill him.

“Okay,” he ends up saying anyway. “Do you run out of hot water easily?”

Yuuri smiles at him, shaking his head. “No, you’re welcome to take a bath. Take as long as you want, Yura.”

Yuri’s been in their home enough times to know where everything is, which is a concept he would’ve turned down when he was still stupid enough to think he hated the two of them. He carries his duffel into a bathroom that’s bigger than the bedroom in his apartment and silently closes the door, stripping out of his practice clothes. Weirdly enough, Yuri doesn’t even have the urge to lock it.

As an athlete, he got pretty used to changing in front of others, but as often as he shared a locker room with both Victor and Yuuri, the setting is completely different. Being in a personal bathroom, especially one that isn’t his own, Yuri expected himself to feel self-conscious. It’s a lot more intimate to bathe like this than it is taking to the showers after being at practice for hours.

Underneath all of his bravado, Yuri knows why he doesn’t feel uncomfortable here.

He’s only been soaking in the bubble bath for a few minutes when he hears a knock at the door and grumbles his permission to enter. He pulls his knees against his chest just before the door opens, even though he’s buried beneath enough bubbles to hide most of his body from somebody he doubts is going to look either way.

Victor slips into the bathroom with a mug in his hands. “I thought tea might soothe your throat.”

Secretly, Yuri isn’t surprised that Victor is as thoughtful as he is. Most of the time, Victor’s flippant, flighty personality is just an act, and he’s tamed it quite a bit over the years, but Yuri still appreciates that Victor has all but dropped it completely around him. He hadn’t realized it at first, mostly pinned it all on Yuuri and his influence, but when the two of them started hanging out with him separately as he grew up and stopped acting like a brat, he realized that Victor drops it even when he’s spending alone time with Yuri. The first time he’d actually recognized the effort it must’ve taken for Victor to bother, he’d shown up on their doorstep and made them dinner.

They acted like it was completely normal for Yuri to do that, for Yuri to show up out of the blue, despite never having done it before.

He rarely ever does, and that had been the first time. Usually he’ll text before he shows up, because it would just be awkward to show up if they were in the middle of something a little more on the intimate side. He’s really glad that’s never happened before, because he thinks he’d be far more embarrassed than either of them.

“Thank you, Vitya,” he murmurs, reaching up to take it. Victor smiles like Yuri’s just given him the best compliment.

“Would you like me to wash your hair?”

Yuri can almost feel the roots in his lungs attempting to grow, but he ignores them, more worried about whether or not he looks as stupid as he thinks he does, staring at Victor the way he is.

“You’re allowed to say no, Yura, it’s only an offer.” He starts to turn, and Yuri’s speaking before he realizes it, mouth moving of its own accord. A part of him feels like he’s clinging to a door that nearly shut for good.

“Wait.”

Victor may be twelve years older than him, but he smiles like he’s been given an unexpected gift. Yuri wonders if his acceptance is actually that rewarding or if he’s just being blinded by his own feelings on the matter.

“Drink your tea and I’ll come back in a few minutes, okay? Or whenever you’re ready.”

Twenty minutes later, Yuri’s leaning his head back while Victor massages sweet-smelling shampoo into his hair, though Yuri has no idea what the scent actually is, and it feels  _ heavenly _ . He catches himself humming every once in a while, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not when Victor pays particular attention to the places that make Yuri groan.

“You really are like a cat, aren’t you, Yura?” the elder Russian whispers in their native tongue, and Yuri doesn’t burden himself with a reply.

No matter what Yuri wishes, this is probably a one time event, and it’s likely only happening because Yuri has a disease that’s slowly killing him—his friends probably feel bad about that—, but Yuri  _ likes _ this, likes it too much to deny himself. He knows he’ll miss it when it’s finished, but once is better than never, right?

“I enjoy doing this, but I can’t keep my hair long anymore and Yuuri refuses to grow his out. Do you think you’d let me do this again sometime, Yura?”

Yuri practically purrs. “Why does he refuse to grow his hair out?”

Victor’s gentle laughter fills his ears and his hands fall away before he begins the rinse. “He claims his hair is too unruly when it gets any longer than he keeps it now.”

“Actually, I could see that. It’s fitting.” The minutes pass while Victor finishes his hair, and Yuri sighs when he stands to leave. “Thank you.” He opens eyes to look up at the other man, offering a rare smile. “If you were serious, I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

He lets his eyes slip closed again after Victor nods, so it’s quite a surprise when he feels Victor’s lips press against his forehead. “Thank you, Yura.”

/

Yuri doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he also doesn’t ever remember waking up quite so  _ warm _ . It’s not a bad warmth, just a comfortable one. He sighs, curling further into the covers and wondering if he can’t slip back into his slumber for just a little bit longer.

That is, until he feels the gentle fingers combing through his hair, and realizes he’s not curled around a pillow, but a  _ person _ .

“Yura? Do you want breakfast before we get ready to go?”

_ Where are we going? _

_ Oh. _

The previous day’s events come rushing back to him and Yuri suppresses a groan, curling into Yuuri a little more. “Do I have to go?”

Yuri feels more than hears him laughing. “Yura, I think Yakov will kill us if we don’t get you to Europe for the GPF. Besides, you’ll only be disappointed if you miss it, and that’s the last thing we want.”

_ None of this explains why I’m in Yuuri and Victor’s bed, though. _

He sighs again, pushing himself up while rubbing his eyes. “Did I fall asleep on the couch?”

Yuuri hums. “We hope you don’t mind--I was worried. I didn’t want to leave you by yourself, and Victor said we couldn’t all sleep on the couch. I guess his decision to buy a king was more of a blessing than I thought, since we can all three fit on it.” Yuri blinks at him while the older male fidgets, and he’s hit with the urge to hug him. This time, though, he’s not completely awake yet, and he doesn’t fight it. Yuuri’s arms slide around his shoulders like it’s second nature, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. Like hugging Yuri is no big deal.

“Yura…, do you think… Are you going to keep it a secret until it kills you?”

It’s whispered against the shell of his ear, making him shiver. Yuri knows, he  _ knows _ that they care, that they don’t want to lose him. And yes, Yuri could confess. But if his feelings aren’t returned, then he’ll be sent to have the surgery, and he really can’t afford to take time off for the recovery period. Not only that, but what will they think of him? What if he ruins everything they’ve already built?

“I don’t know.” He stays in Yuuri’s arms until the bedroom door cracks open and Victor pokes his head in.

“Breakfast is ready!” His expression lights up when he sees them. “Good morning my loves!”

And Yuri chokes, clean white petals forcing themselves out of his lungs. His mind doesn’t race like he’s used to--instead, he finds himself wondering whether or not he’s going to ruin Victor and Yuuri’s duvet, or if the flowers are as dry as they feel. He thinks he can feel Yuuri’s arm around his waist, holding him up, and hopes that he’s not getting any blood or saliva on him in the process.

The episode doesn’t last very long, his throat isn’t as sore as it had been after his episode at practice. “I’m sorry.”

Gentle hands cup his jaw, making him focus on the face in front of him. “Are you alright, Yura?”

_ I don’t deserve this. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For most of the flight, Victor goes on and on about who-knows-what to Yuuri, who takes it all in stride, and Yuri naps here and there, until Victor passes out against Yuuri’s shoulder. He turns to Yuri, then, heartbreak written all over his face. “I wish you would tell him.”

Yuri doesn’t know how Yakov or Victor or whoever managed to do it. He doesn’t, unless all three seats were bought at the same time, though that implies that either Yuuri and Victor bought his plane ticket, or one of them asked Yakov to book their tickets with his. Honestly, Yuri wouldn’t put it past them either way,  _ but _ , maybe he just has  _ really weird luck _ . Sure, he has a disease that’s slowly killing him, but at least he gets a good seat on the plane to what may be his final competition ever.

“Should I even ask?” he directs to Yuuri, who’s sitting in the center of their three-seat row.

The Japanese man smiles at him. “Victor’s the one who talked to Mr. Feltsman.”

“But?”

“But… it was my idea.”

For most of the flight, Victor goes on and on about who-knows-what to Yuuri, who takes it all in stride, and Yuri naps here and there, until Victor passes out against Yuuri’s shoulder. He turns to Yuri, then, heartbreak written all over his face. “I wish you would tell him.”

_ Tell...him? _

“Yuuri?”

“Yura…it’s Victor, isn’t it?”

_ Yuuri… _

_ He knows, he knows, how does he know? _

Yuri has thought of it, toyed with the idea. He’d let his imagination run, pretended that everything would still be right in the world if he confessed, but he was  _ never _ going to say a word, even if it did kill him. He just wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to these two, they’re his friends--hell, they’re practically family.

_ He  _ **_knows_ ** _. _

He can’t bring himself to meet Yuuri’s gaze, not even when he reaches for Yuri’s hand. “Won’t you tell me? Please?”

But what to say? ‘Yes, I’m in love with Victor’? ‘I’ve been in love with Victor since I was nineteen’?

How can he look Yuuri in the eye and tell him that yes, he’s in love with Victor? His two closest friends, people he trusts and relies on and who trust and rely on him in return?

But he respects Yuuri, too. Yuuri’s asking him for the truth, and Yuri… Yuri can’t bring himself to lie.

“I was never going to say anything.” He doesn’t bother trying to stop the tears that start filling his eyes because  _ nothing _ , nothing is okay right now. Yuuri squeezes his hand.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

_ Afraid of? _

Yuri looks at him, confused and scared--scared, because he  _ really, really _ can’t lose either of them now.

“I know what you’re thinking. For plenty of people, this situation would be betrayal. But, Yura, Victor  _ loves _ you. You mean so much to both of us, you know? And Vitya… He’s scared. He’s scared for you, but he’s also scared to tell you. He doesn’t think that your disease has anything to do with him.”

_ Victor...can’t- _ “Why...why are you telling me this?”

“There’s nothing stopping you from being with Vitya, Yuri.”

“But--What are you saying?  _ You _ , you should be  _ pissed _ . Yuuri,  _ why _ -”

Yuuri releases his hand, wrapping his free arm around Yuri instead, bringing him closer. And his eyes, his eyes hold nothing but sincerity. “Yura, why can’t Victor be with both of us? Is it me? Do you not want to be with him if I’m with him, too?”

“ _ It’s not like that _ ,” Yuri cries, wrapping his hands around the armrest and pushing himself away from Yuuri. “ _ I don’t understand you...I don't- Why are you- _ !”

The older man hushes him, tucking Yuri’s hair behind his ear. “Because you’re family, Yura. I don’t want to lose you, and I can’t be everything Victor needs. Is it so wrong for me to be okay if you and Victor are together, too?”

Yuri kind of wants to scream.

All of this… all of this is…

“Yura…” Yuuri takes his hand again, understanding all too well the panic that must be blatantly displayed across his face. “I won’t force you to tell him, I promise I won’t. But… please,  _ please _ think about telling him. Soon.” His eyes are just as pleading as his words. “I don’t want to lose you.”

_ How can I deny him? _

-

Yuri has decided: Fate must be playing some kind of hideous joke on him.  _ Who _ …  _ who booked their rooms _ ? Who booked Yuri’s room to be in an  _ attached suite _ with Victor and Yuuri’s room? And  _ why _ ?

_ “Yurio~, won’t you come visit with us?” _

_ “Leave him be, Vitya,” _ Yuuri murmurs to his husband on the other side of the door between their rooms. Yuri sinks to the floor, arms wrapped around himself.

_ Shared bathroom, shared suite. It’s like Yuuri’s incorporating me into the dynamic little by little. _

_ Oh, Yuuri… _

Yuri sighs. “Yuuri, Victor can come in if he wants.”

The door clicks open and Victor spots him immediately, crouching down beside him. “Did you have another episode, Yura?” He runs his hands over Yuri’s arms, neck, face, hair, but Yuri just watches him for a long moment, thinking. Hoping.

“I’m going to speak to Yakov!” Yuuri calls from the other room. Yuri hears the door snap shut behind him.

Victor’s eyes are on Yuri, though.

“I’m okay,” he mutters in their native tongue when it occurs to him that the other Russian is waiting on a response. “Yuuri said I should tell you.”

Victor cocks his head, helping Yuri to his feet. “Tell me what,  _ kotenok _ ?” Yuri leads him to the chairs in the corner of the room, unsteady.

“He said...I should tell you why I’m sick.”

“I already know why, Yura. You’re in love.”

_ I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.  _ “Do you know who I’m in love with?”

Victor frowns. “Is it not Yuuri?”

_ Christ, Vitya. _ Yuri looks away. “Yuuri...asked me if it was true that I was in love with you.”

The silence drags on for what seems like forever, but is logically only a handful of moments. And then Victor sinks to his knees in front of Yuri’s chair, taking both of his hands. “You love me?”

Yuri gives a firm nod, eyes down. How? How can he look Victor in the eyes like this?

Yuri has always lived his life as though all of his mistakes were part of the plan all along (it’s no wonder people compare him to a cat…), with all the confidence in the world, but this? Matters of the heart?

He never thought he needed to love somebody, to be loved by somebody.

He never thought he’d  _ want _ to be.

“ _ Yura _ .” Victor’s tone  _ pleads _ ,  _ begs _ Yuri to look at him. He already knows what’s going to come next.

How can Yuri deny him?

“Yuri, will you say it? Please?”

_ Is this it? Is this really...? I’m going to tell him, actually say the words? _ Yuri chews his bottom lip for a moment, just  _ looking _ at the man before him.  _ Can I truly have this? _

“I love you, Vitya.”

Victor surges forward, pulling Yuri out of his chair, practically onto Victor’s lap, kissing him so hard he thinks his lips might bruise. And kissing Victor is  _ good _ , so good, so  _ right _ . There’s only one thing that could make it  _ more  _ right.

“I love you, too,  _ kotenok _ . Heaven knows I love you too.”

And Yuri can  _ feel _ them, feel the roots retreating, sinking back into themselves and giving him room to  _ breathe, finally, relief _ . He lets himself fall into Victor’s kiss and drifts for a while, ready to let go of reality for the time being, ready to hold and be held, to love and be loved.

_ Thank you, Yuuri. _

-

Yuri breaks his own record during his short program.

Victor--beautiful, wonderful, annoying Victor--had decided that Yuri was absolutely going to sleep in the same bed as he and Yuuri last night, and though Yuri tried to protest, it was mostly for show, and they all knew it.

Yuuri hadn’t even seemed the least bit surprised.

Yuuri hadn’t even  _ cared _ , really, not even when Victor decided (again) that Yuri should be in the  _ middle _ .  _ Why _ should Yuri be in the middle? He doesn’t know. He has no idea.

But he slept so  _ well _ . Better than he has in months, actually. Since he realized he was in love.  _ Really _ in love. Yuri has loved Victor since he was nineteen, but he hadn’t always known it. Hell, for all he knows, he’s loved him a lot longer, but he doesn’t think so. His feelings  _ before _ he got to understanding Victor on a whole new level were fairly dark and  _ green _ . Envy.

Yuri tries not to think about those days anymore. His grandfather’s death had changed his views on most of his other relationships, because he suddenly woke up one day and the only family he had left was just…  _ gone _ . His first thought had been,  _ at least I have Yakov and Lilia _ , but then he’d thought,  _ I have Yuuri and Victor as well _ .

Because they’ve never left him, after all these years.

And now, helping him through such a disease even though it means changing their entire dynamic…

_ Although, the dynamic hasn’t changed as much as one might think… _

Yuri glances toward the center of the room, watching Victor and Yuuri glide across the dance floor with all the grace of trained ballerinas. Which Yuuri is.

“How are you feeling?” Otabek slides into the seat next to his, and Yuri reminds himself to keep his head on straight. Will he be left behind if he slips up now? If he even gets photographed too close to Victor, won’t people notice that something’s different? “You’ve broken both your own records, you should be celebrating.”

“I feel… good, I think.”

Otabek hums. He’s nearing the end of his career, but he’s told Yuri and the press both that he’s proud of his accomplishments. His final year will end on a good note. As much as he hates to admit it, Yuri’s kind of surprised that he’s even still skating at twenty-seven. There aren’t many skaters like Victor and Yuuri, though perhaps it helps that Otabek has never had a serious injury on or off of the ice.

“Yura,  _ kotenok _ , would you do me the honor?”

Yuri wonders how he looks to Victor in this moment. The man doesn’t really care all that much about rumors, but what if people suspect infidelity? What will it do to Yuuri’s anxiety?

“Yura, please take him away from me, my knees need to rest,” Yuuri chimes in, sinking into the chair at Yuri’s right, across from Otabek.

Yuri hadn’t planned on dancing, not with Victor or anyone else, but he doesn’t like the tension around Yuuri’s eyes. His career had ended on a high note--he’d taken gold at the GPF, Nationals, and Worlds, and Yuri’s  _ still _ trying to break the world record Yuuri had set during his final competition--but his knees had started bothering him persistently during  _ Victor’s _ final year on the ice, and he’d continued for three years after that.

_ And he’s been out there dancing for nearly three hours. _

So, yeah. Yuri doesn’t mind giving him a break. He’s been sitting here wallowing for too long.

Wallowing, even though he should be happy right now. He  _ is _ happy right now.

“Something’s bothering you, Yuratchka. What is it, what’s wrong? You took gold, you haven’t had any episodes since the day we left, and you get a little break before your next competition.” Victor pulls him close on the dancefloor, winding an arm around his waist and intertwining their fingers, and Yuri doesn’t really mind that Victor’s still taller than him.

Yuri wants to lean into him, but he  _ hates _ , hates being vulnerable. Especially where people can  _ see _ . If only he could still be an asshole without Yakov sending him home early.

_ Lilia would have my hide if I just walked out _ .

He doesn’t want to deal with Viktor pouting at him anyway.

“I feel like people are going to start talking when we’re together.”

Viktor blinks at him. “Yura, people already think the three of us have something unusual going on. I don’t care, and Yuuri thinks it’s kind of intriguing to read all the theories floating around out there. We don’t care what people think of us. Do you, Yura?”

_ Yuuri has no anxiety about me being with Victor? _

“Wait, there are theories?”

Viktor hums. “You really don’t use social media like you used to. Is Yuuri’s anxiety rubbing off on you, Yura? Are you afraid of what people will say about you?”

“ _ No _ , but I was worried about Yuuri. He hasn’t been afraid of losing you since you first went to Japan to see him, but this feels different, you know?”

“You’re so worried for our Yuuri, Yura, but he’s more than happy, okay? Has he changed his tune at all around you?”

_ Of course not. But even if Yuuri was hurting, would he tell me? _

“Not at all, Vitya.” Whether or not Yuuri would come to him, Yuri supposes tonight is  _ his _ night, and he really  _ should _ be celebrating. Especially now that he has a doting boyfriend along with all of his friends at his side.

_ What more could I want? _

His thoughts are bittersweet. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

-

As much as Victor tries for the remainder of the night, he’s unable to stop Yuri’s mind from spiraling back to his doubt. He doesn’t doubt Victor’s feelings, and he doesn’t doubt his words.

Hell, Yuri doesn’t doubt anything but himself, if only he could be content like this. His list of regrets goes on for miles but he thinks his previous treatment of Yuuri will always be at the top, even though Yuuri himself has never held it against him.

Sure, Yuri might have played a part in getting Yuuri to stay in competitive figure skating after the first year he had Victor as his coach, but if his grandfather had heard half of the things Yuri said to Yuuri’s face, he’d have boxed his ears. And now, years later, Yuri feels the weight of those words like a noose around his neck.

He feels so  _ guilty _ .

Shame is something he never used to bother with. He never cared what people thought of him, or how the things he said and did might affect those around him. He only cared about one thing, and one thing only, and that was winning.

Nevermind how he felt about who he won against.

He’d been so pissed that Katsuki Yuuri seemed to hold so much potential, only to fail when all eyes were on him. He’d never felt those nerves the way others did, and instead of trying to sympathize with Yuuri’s anxiety, he’d been downright nasty to his face.

But then…

Then, Yuuri had skated Victor’s Free Skate from the season and Yuuko’s kids had decided to show everyone in the world just how capable Yuuri really was, and it only served to piss Yuri off that much more.

But it was beautiful. Watching Yuuri skate, especially after he gained confidence in himself, was always beautiful. Truthfully, Yuri misses it, misses watching him glide across the ice like he belongs there.

_ “I don’t know what to do, Yuuri." _

He sinks lower into the bathtub and sulks.

Yuri isn’t trying to ruin the night. The banquet had been nice, in the end. Even Yuuri, after getting to rest for a while, had pulled Yuri onto the dancefloor a few times, and Yuri has never been prouder to be larger than him, because it means he got to lead. Yuuri hadn’t seemed to mind, though he’s more than used to it, being married to Victor.

But being with Victor  _ is _ bittersweet, and he doesn’t know how to stop feeling like he’s going to ruin everything. Is this how Yuuri feels on his bad days? Is this what he goes through, what he used to go through during his competition days?

_ “Yura, may I come in?” _

He grunts an affirmative, watching Yuuri close the door behind himself. Yuuri, unlike Victor, doesn’t ask before he soaks Yuri’s hair and starts massaging shampoo into it. He doesn’t mind in the least.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, gazing dully at the bathroom wall. Yuuri hums from behind him.

“Nobody can tell you how to feel, Yura. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through the last few months, let alone the last few days.” He tips Yuri’s head back to rinse the shampoo away, and their eyes meet, though it takes him a moment to piece together why Yuuri seems so blurry.

“Everything seems so bittersweet,” he tries to clarify. “I should be happy, no?”

The older man breathes a little sigh, and Yuri fights the urge to ask if his knees are okay. Maybe if this becomes a regular thing, they should keep a stool in the bathroom at home.

_ Home. _

“Honestly, Yura, I’ve been thinking about this whole thing quite a lot. Vitya says you’re worried about my feelings on the matter, but I’ll say it a hundred times: I  _ want _ you to be happy. But just because I want you to be happy, as we all do, doesn’t mean that you should be. Your heart is your own, you know it better than anyone.” Yuri hasn’t bothered blinking the tears from his eyes, so he can’t tell if Yuuri’s actually smiling at him or if there're too many tears impairing his vision.

“So tell me, Yura. Why are you hurting?”

_ I am not hurting,  _ he wants to say.  _ I’ve hurt you. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about the ways I have hurt you, and I do not deserve your kindness. _

“Can you ever forgive me?” he whispers, shutting his eyes when Yuuri massages the conditioner into his hair.

The hands still, curled into his hair, and Yuri marvels at the events of the last week while he waits.

“My goodness, Yura, what on earth? What makes you think you’ve ever done anything to warrant asking for forgiveness? If you’ve done something I’m not aware of, please inform me now, because I can’t think of a time when you said something unkind to me that you truly meant--”

“I said horrible things to you and just because I didn’t mean them doesn’t mean I should have said them at all!”  _ Why doesn’t anybody understand? _ “You’ve been so,  _ so _ kind to me, and I--”

“You’ve been kind to me, too, Yura. Do you really think I would have stayed to compete if you hadn’t nearly killed yourself on the ice to make me stay? Not only did you force me to see you as a rival, you’ve pulled me out of my head more successfully than Victor ever has. Yura, just because you don’t show your kindness the way other people do, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s clear to me. You wear your heart on your sleeve for the people who know how to read it.” He returns to his task, rinsing the conditioner from Yuri’s hair, gentler than before. When he’s done, his hands move to Yuri’s shoulders, continuing their massage. He kind of wants to purr, though it might be ridiculous. For some reason, he doubts Yuuri would say anything if he did.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” he murmurs, near Yuri’s ear. “If you’re feeling guilty about the past, if you really need to hear me say I forgive you, I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. But, I don’t think there’s anything to forgive you  _ for _ .”

“Not even Vitya?”

“Why would I hold that against you?” he asks, not unkindly. His hands slide away and he makes to stand. “The two people I care most about want to be with each other, I would never deny either of you.” He brushes his knuckles across Yuri’s forehead. “Do you feel better at all?”

Yuri takes a moment to assess himself, dumbfounded. “Yes.” He hugs his legs to his chest. “Are your knees okay?”

Yuuri blinks at him for a moment, then his expression clears. “You’re so worried about me, Yura.” He smiles. “I’ll probably ache tomorrow, but it’s worth it. I like to see you untroubled.”

If he ends up clinging to Yuuri more than Victor through the night, nobody comments on it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story has not reached its end! please hold out until chapter 3! thank you for reading <3


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